


Sixteen Parkside Lane

by SimplyBlueiis



Series: The Taxi!Verse [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe- No Supernatural, Human Castiel (Supernatural), M/M, Reunions, Taxi Driver Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-20
Updated: 2021-01-20
Packaged: 2021-03-18 14:26:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28868514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SimplyBlueiis/pseuds/SimplyBlueiis
Summary: Dean needs one more fare to make his night, as he heads out of Berkeley and back to Palo Alto. A man up ahead waves to flag him down. His fare's face was the last one Dean ever expected to see in the back of his cab.
Series: The Taxi!Verse [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2118282
Comments: 13
Kudos: 50





	Sixteen Parkside Lane

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Taxi](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/745830) by Harry Chapin. 



> This scene is loosely based on Harry Chapin's song "Taxi". I've always loved it, and thought it could use a little Destiel flair.

Dean sighed, tucking the forty dollars from his latest fare into the pocket of his jeans. Staring out the rain-splattered windshield, he wondered what the chances were that he could find one more decent fare on his way back to Palo Alto. _One more fare would make my night_ , he thought, mentally adding up the fares he'd caught thus far.

He flicked the roof light back on, and headed slowly down University Avenue towards the Bay. He’d almost reached San Pablo Avenue, idly watching the sidewalks, when he saw a man in a dark suit step into the road to flag him down. The rain was coming down in sheets now, he couldn’t see much more than a blue suit and dark hair. _At least he’s wearing a tie, so probably not some college kid looking for a two-block hop,_ Dean thought. Hoping the fare was headed in his direction, but resigned to take the rider either way, he flipped on his signal and pulled his cab to the curb.

Dean turned down his radio as the fare got in the backseat and closed the door behind him, the smell of wet pavement and wetter wool accompanying him inside. The dude was _drenched_ , leaning forward to brush some of the water out of his dark hair and into the footwells of the cab. Dean felt a twinge of pity for the guy; Dean might be out driving in the rain, sure, but this guy had obviously been stuck outside for a while. Reaching over, he fiddled in the glove box for a handful of fast food napkins and passed them over the seat back.

“Here. Not much but at least it’ll dry your hands and your face,” Dean offered.

“Thanks.” A long-fingered hand reached out and took the napkins from him, as Dean felt a twinge of recognition. _I know that voice…._ But the guy’s face was still lowered as he wiped it dry with the handful of cheap paper.

Dean pulled back into traffic and pushed the meter button. “Where you goin’ to, my friend in blue? It’s a shame you ruined your suit in the rain.”

The fare snorted, resting his face in his hands, and his elbows on his knees. He spread himself across the backseat and sighed. “Sixteen Parkside Lane,” he spoke to the floor, a weariness that couldn’t be hidden in his words.

Dean’s eyes widened. “Dude, that’s way up off Marina Boulevard, right?” _In the classy part of town. I can’t even afford to walk down those streets_.

“Yes, it is. Is that a problem?” The man sat back against the seat, leaned his head against the window, his face in shadow. The smell of damp cloth and wet napkins wafted through the cab.

“No, I mean, not for me. That’s not gonna be a cheap trip, though.”

“That’s fine. I’ve got the cash, or a credit card if you prefer.”

The fare’s voice niggled at Dean’s brain, like a Zepp earworm. “Nah, man, if you’ve got digs in that part of town, I think you’re good for it.”

The man huffed out a small laugh and didn’t say anything more.

Dean shrugged and kept a steady eye on traffic as he made his way out of Berkeley. Something about this guy was familiar, but he couldn’t place what it was. _Maybe I’m just tired. Maybe it’s nothing at all_. _Too many miles, too many fares_. It all blended together after a few years. 

It took a while, but the fare finally raised his head from it’s resting place on the window, just as they passed under a streetlight on the bridge. A bolt of recognition rocked Dean to his toes. _Holy Christ. Forty million people in the state of California, and he ends up in my cab…_

Dark jaw, a hint of stubble. Dimple creases bracketing a full, wide mouth. Dark hair that had a tendency to curl when it got too long. And those eyes. There was no mistaking those eyes, even if it had been fifteen years since they’d stared into Dean’s. _The bluest blue to ever blue_ , Dean snorted to himself. Without thought, he reached over and turned off the meter.

The fare’s eyes darted to the meter, then to the back of Dean’s head.

“Um, excuse me. Why did you –“

“Hey, man. I knew I recognized you.” A half-smile lit up Dean’s face.

The fare tensed up, his eyes hitting the ceiling with a long-suffering sigh. “Listen, I’ll happily sign whatever you want, okay? But there’s no need to turn off the meter. I assure you, I’m completely capable of paying your usual fee, Mister –“ Here he paused, glancing at the taxi license posted on the back of the seat for his driver’s name. 

A quick, indrawn breath broke the silence. Blue eyes met green in the rearview mirror. Dean’s eyes crinkled at the corners.

“Heya, Cas.”

A smile seemed to come to him slowly, it was a sad smile just the same.

“Hello, Dean.”

**Author's Note:**

> Here are the lyrics from the first few verses of "Taxi": 
> 
> It was raining hard in 'Frisco  
> I needed one more fare to make my night  
> A lady up ahead waved to flag me down  
> She got in at the light  
> "Oh where you going to, my lady blue  
> It's a shame you ruined your gown in the rain"  
> She just looked out the window  
> She said, "Sixteen Parkside Lane"
> 
> Something about her was familiar  
> I could swear I'd seen her face before  
> But she said, "I'm sure you're mistaken"  
> And she didn't say anything more
> 
> It took a while, but she looked in the mirror  
> And she glanced at the license for my name  
> A smile seemed to come to her slowly  
> It was a sad smile, just the same  
> And she said, "How are you Harry?"  
> I said, "How are you Sue?  
> Through the too many miles and the too little smiles  
> I still remember you."


End file.
